The Long Day is Over
by Dragonflysoul
Summary: Episode tag to "Admiral's Daughter." Tony's mission was done. Gibbs' was not. Yet.


Title: The Long Day is over

Author: dragonfly

Genre: h/c, family, gen, episode tag

Summary: Episode tag to "Admirals Daughter." Tony's mission was done. Gibbs' was not. Yet.

A/N: No plot really. (I swear I'm working on a NCIS story with an actual plot! I swears it!)

A/N: Yes, I know Tony can take care of himself. Sometimes it's nice to have someone to lean on.

~*~NCIS~*~

When DiNozzo walked out of the elevator smiling, Gibbs let go of a breath he'd been holding since he answered a call expecting his agent, but getting a stranger's voice—an _inspector's voice_ instead. Though he had talked to Tony and knew that he was more than capable of getting the job done and getting back home to them—well, parents worry, he admitted to himself watching the Admiral hug his daughter.

Tony's mood was light, but Gibbs could tell he was exhausted and nearing the end of his rope. His suspicions were confirmed when instead of sitting, Tony leaned over on his desk. Gibbs was familiar with the behavior. He's done the same when he wasn't entirely sure himself if he'd be able to get back up.

Exhaustion won out, though, and after clueing Palmer in, Tony did sit. Grinning widely, Ducky's assistant called Brianna and headed for the elevator. And Gibbs stood and went over to DiNozzo. The mission was over, the danger was gone. Whether realizing it or not, Tony had switched from his _Survivor_ mode into _Idle_. Sometimes, Gibbs thought with a smirk, his agent needed looked after more in this gear than the other.

Tony startled when he gently gripped the back of his arm intending to steer him out of the office. "Boss?"

Gibbs narrowed his eyes at the small, unsure voice. "Mission's over, DiNozzo. Time to go home."

"Home," he repeated dazedly, looking down at his desk like he was forgetting something. "Right."

The end of said proverbial rope was getting close. He needed to get him to the car before he was forced to carry him there. "Come on, I got a pizza with your name on it."

Humming appreciatively, he let Gibbs tug him towards the elevators. "I like pizza."

"Yeah, DiNozzo," Gibbs said affectionately, pressing the _Garage _level when they stepped inside and facing the doors as they closed, "I know."

~*~NCIS~*~

When they got in the car, Tony livened up a bit and started regaling his hair-raising adventure with the obligatory movie references and impersonations—hands moving as much as his mouth. Gibbs nodded and commented in all the right places until the yabba yabba slowed and Tony's breathing evened out.

He glanced over to find him asleep, head tilted back on the neck-rest facing him. Chuckling softly, Gibbs pulled into the younger man's favorite pizza joint. "Lasted three minutes longer than I thought you would, DiNozzo."

~*~NCIS~*~

The smell of the pie roused Tony enough to get him in the house under his own steam. He managed to scarf down three slices before he lost momentum and his head started to droop. Gibbs rescued the fourth before it slipped through his fingers. "M' not finished with that, boss," Tony protested—more asleep than not.

"It'll keep until tomorrow, DiNozzo. Time to hit the rack."

The younger man grunted, blinked slowly, then began to lower his head onto his arms on the table. "Not there," Gibbs chided and gently tugged him up. Tony never commented on the fact that he had been brought back to Gibbs' place instead of his own. It wasn't uncommon after rough cases for some of his "kids" to find their balance again at his house. Gibbs used to think he did it more for their sake. Over the years as they grew strong, capable and confident, however, he started to wonder if sometimes his agents were the ones doing the indulging.

As he got to his feet, Tony grimaced and leaned to the side as if trying to stretch his back.

"_Squishy_ car?" Gibbs quoted from his earlier recounting of events.

Tony grunted an affirmative, and closing his eyes, leaned on Gibbs as he led him through the house. "Did I tell you I was Faye Dunaway?"

"Twice."

It was slow going up the stairs, but between using Gibbs and the railing Tony managed. "Jus' need a lil siesta, boss. Then I'll be good t' go," he said, leaning on him more with every step.

"Mmhmm," the older agent mollified, steering him into the spare bedroom. He wouldn't bother telling him it was almost midnight. He wouldn't bother trying to guess how much sleep his agent got while on the run. No one at home had slept—that much he knew.

When Tony's knees hit the side of the bed, he crawled onto it diagonally and was asleep on his stomach before he even finished letting out a breath of content. Gibbs shook his head fondly. He then removed Tony's shoes, walked around the bed and sat next to the upper half of his body. Lifting up his shirt, he was relieved to find no signs of trauma, but he would be sure to lay out the ointment for his back before breakfast.

After pulling the corner of the bedspread over him, he reached up and cupped the back of Tony's head. He knew the agent had just been doing his job, but he was proud of him. He was proud of everyone on his team. Every day.

Sliding his thumb back and forth through his hair, Gibbs listened to his breaths for any signs of trouble. Even after all of these years, his ears were still attuned to the younger man's breathing. Tony had stayed with him then, too—after the blue lights. Recalling the surprised look on his agent's face when he had handed him homemade chicken noodle soup made him smile. "You do what you gotta do," he whispered softly to himself—from making soup, to getting his agent back-up on the other side of the world…and everything in between. "You do what you gotta do."

Tony's breathing was fine and as Gibbs' hand slid down to the nape of his neck, he felt the tension in his own body be replaced with the need for sleep. But there was one more thing he had to do before he could rest.

Squeezing the younger man's shoulder, he stood and turned off the light. Then stepping into the hallway, he closed the door partway before making a call. "He's home. He's good," he said by way of greeting.

"_One second, boss—"_

Gibbs heard a few digital tones over the phone then:

"_GibbsGibbsGibbs!" _

"_How's Tony?"_

"_Jethro, how's our dear boy?"_

The senior agent rolled his eyes with a sigh.

"_Sorry, boss they threatened me with pointy things if I didn't conference them in when you called," _McGee apologized.

"_Isheokaydidheeatanyinjuriesishouldknowaboutdidyoutellhimaboutsisterrosita's—"_

Gibbs stepped away from the bedroom door and whistled into the phone to stop the rapid fire questions being asked all at once. "One at a time. McGee, go."

"_He eat?"_

"Three pieces."

"_Any injuries, Jethro?"_

"_Squishy_ car." He knew they would know what he meant…well, most of them.

"_Do you have his ointment, Gibbs?" _Abby asked._ "The kind that doesn't make him smell like an old man?"_

"Got it."

"_Ointment? Squishy car?"_ Bishop finally got a word in.

"_Yeah, you see Tony's has this—"_ Abby began to offer, but cut herself off when she realized it wasn't a good time. _"Um, I'll explain later."_

"_Need anything, boss?" _McGee asked.

"Nah, he's already asleep."

"_Sounds like you've got everything under control then, Jethro. As expected."_

"_Thanks for calling, boss." _

"Get some sleep. All of you."

There were four replies for him to do the same.

As he closed his phone, he looked back at the room that held his agent. The long day, _days_ were finally over. His team was home, safe and all accounted for. The corner of his mouth turned up, and with a nod he headed down the stairs. "Roger that."

The end.

4


End file.
